


But You and I Will Always Be Back Then

by Lacy_Star



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: (love that tag), Abusive Relationships, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, Jschlatt is a dick, Karl is touch starved on the dl, Karlnapity with an emphasis on just Karl and quackity, Minor Violence, Multi, Not RPF, Possible Derealization, Time Travel, Wound Tending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29223525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacy_Star/pseuds/Lacy_Star
Summary: The White House. The voices were coming from the White House. Quackity’s was loudest, and perhaps that was Fundy’s voice too, but Karl truly didn’t care, because the world was still not quite properly oriented yet, and he wasn’t meant to be there, he wasn’t meant to be able to come to the past like this, the world was made of illusions, but that was his fiancee’s voice and it was the most beautiful sound in the world and it was real and the one thing that made sense, and he stumbled from between the trees to see Quackity laughing, smiling—With Schlatt’s arm wrapped around his back. With Schlatt’s hand on his waist. With a ring on Schlatt’s index finger that matched Quackity’s.With Schlatt, Quackity’s definitely not dead fiancee, staring down at Karl’s future fiancee with a wolfish, sharp grin.---AKA: Karl time travels back to pre Manberg festival, tries to right some wrongs, and tries to show Quackity that love doesn't have to hurt.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 163
Kudos: 712





	1. Time Is an Illusion That Helps Things Make Sense

**Author's Note:**

> Title Song: Time Adventure - from "Adventure Time"
> 
> Please do not plagiarize or steal any of my work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fic for dream smp I've written that I can say with certainty is a ship fic, and even tho it's not rpf and all rp, I'm not sure how I feel abt this. but too late here we go!!
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: This chapter might have some elements of derealization in it. Stay safe! You are real!

He always noticed it in his hands first.

Usually when Karl began to time travel, they’d gain a slight shake and spasm, clenching and unclenching as if frantically trying to hold onto his current skin before it fell away.

Sometimes it (whatever _it_ was; his power, he supposed) was gracious enough to come at a convenient time, where he was at home alone. He’d had it a couple times whilst trying to simply fall asleep. Made it easy to mistake for a dream on occasion— closing his eyes in bed and opening them in a new reality.

Other times, it was not so gracious.

Such was the case when he was busy with his fiancees on a chilled evening. It had started with a visit to Sapnap, who had invited him over “to talk”, and had been interrupted with Quackity appearing on Sapnap’s doorstep not long after Karl’s arrival, face set in stony determination Karl felt a twinge of fear from.

Quackity had plopped into a hard chair at the dining table, arms crossed as he scrutinized the wood in front of him with his glare. Sapnap and Karl had danced around them while they’d both gotten their respective drinks from the fridge. They both knew better than to try and talk to him when he was like this.

“Are we _really_ gonna sit here?” Was what Sapnap asked to breach the silence, hovering next to the table with a Coke in hand.

Karl grinned a little despite his unease. “Why do you even _have_ a dining table? Do you ever sit here dude?”

Sapnap started to chuckle until Quackity lifted his head to give them equally unamused glares.

Karl and Sapnap sat down without further jokes.

“Can we cut the shit?” Quackity asked, eyes dropping back to the table. Karl observed his sneer. He had a missing canine and premolar that gave him a minor lisp, thanks to Technoblade, and had the mood been lighter, Karl might’ve teased him about how his tongue poked ever so slightly through the gap when he talked.

Sapnap sunk down in his chair at the snappy tone, “Dude, I didn’t invite you. What do you even want?”

Karl hated the triangle of tension that had been created, but didn’t dare speak up. He hadn’t liked the tone of Sapnap’s invitation in the first place, so anything was worth it to not have the attention on him.

“That’s right. You didn’t invite me. Hey, remember when our home got destroyed a few weeks ago and you just left me there?”

Sapnap gave a “Mmm?” Through a mouthful of Coke.

“27 withers? Tnt raining from the sky? Does that not ring a bell?”

Sapnap paused, swirling the drink in his hand. “… I was distracted afterwards. I’m sorry. Also, you kinda fucking disappeared?”

“And you didn’t look for me?”

“Was I supposed to? Where have you been?”

“Trying to salvage my possessions and go into hiding where nobody can fucking find me.”

“You could have just come here.”

Quackity’s tone cut cold. “I did.”

Karl felt his hands start to shake, but didn’t think much of it. It was likely nerves, or the Monster he was downing like it would get him drunk enough to handle the conversation.

Sapnap’s tone softened in its confusion. “… You did? When?”

“After the battle. You weren’t here. Where were _you?_ ”

Sapnap set his soda down and crossed his arms, sinking so far down that his back was supported by the seat of the chair rather than the back of it.

“Where were you?” Quackity repeated, harsh.

Sapnap stared up at the ceiling, eyes glazed and lost. Hesitantly he admitted, “The community house.”

Quackity scoffed. “Oh, of course you were.”

Instantly Sapnap seemed jarred back to reality. He pushed himself back up and met Quackity’s stony eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The first thing you care to check on isn’t your fucking _fiancee,_ but your old house you built with the biggest _monster_ on the server.”

Sapnap’s jaw audibly clicked shut and Karl’s stomach sunk as he realized the dark turn this was taking. His fingers started to twitch, his chest starting to constrict.

Quackity must’ve sensed the shift, because his eyes widened fractionally. Then, for a barely noticeable moment, he _smiled_. He smiled as if he’d prodded through a jenga tower and had finally found which piece to pull to make it fall. Like he’d expected it to fall. Like he wanted it to fall.

Sapnap was not as amused. “Didn’t we just all agree that having attachments to things isn’t a bad thing?”

“Not if you prioritize them over people. Not if you prioritize someone who was going to murder a _child_ over your fiancee.”

Sapnap’s crossed arms banged loudly down onto the table as he leaned closer, taking the offense. “When have I _ever_ prioritized _Dream_ over you? It’s just a house. _My_ house. That’s not the same as defending all the shit he’s done.”

Quackity didn’t back down in the slightest. “Exactly, it _is_ just a house. It’s fucking blown up. Can’t you just move on and, I don’t know, focus on us?”

“I need time _,_ okay? Dream—“

“Dream never cared about you.”

Karl felt nauseous as Sapnap paled beside him. His fingers were beginning to go numb and he sucked them into his sleeves, crossing his arms as if to give himself a hug. As if to reassure himself that it would all be fine. That fights were normal in relationships.

Quackity continued, finger pointed, “You’ve said it yourself, don’t look so surprised. He doesn’t care about anyone, and just because you think you used to be his friend doesn’t change anything.”

Sapnap’s voice cracked on a note of,“… But this isn’t _like_ him, dude, I don’t know—“

“It _is_ him. You need to move on—“

“That’s easy for you to say!”

“It _is_ because I _have!_ ” Quackity planted his feet and stood up quickly, for once being the one to tower over the both of them as he yelled, “Stop giving your love to someone who doesn’t give a shit about you and start giving it to the people who actually fucking _care!_ ”

He had tears in his eyes. Sapnap seemed to pause. Seemed to see how far he’d inadvertently gone. Karl sensed it too. He couldn’t feel his hands and the world felt off axis, but this was too much. He had to stop this. Slowly he reached over with his cloaked hand and set it gently on Quackity’s tensed arm. “Alex…”

Quackity slapped it away, whirling to him with wet, infuriated eyes. “Don’t _fucking_ touch me you—“ He paused, and Karl realized his sudden mistake of making his presence known. Because up until then they’d forgotten his existence and he’d been able to escape any anger directed in his direction. In his blinded good intention, now Quackity saw him. And when he saw him, his eyes narrowed, and Karl felt the lumped stone in his throat sink down to his stomach as Quackity began to seethe, “Don’t even get me fucking _started_ on _you_.”

His own voice sounding embarrassingly fragile to even himself, Karl asked, “Me?”

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Uh oh.

Quackity gestured wildly towards the door, towards the outside, “I went to your house too, you know? And where were you? Not there.” He laughed, but it was cold and without the humor Karl loved to hear so much, “Though, that shouldn’t be a surprise considering you couldn’t even be bothered to show up to the battle.”

Sapnap, quieter, cut in, “That’s… actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Karl.”

Karl’s fingers clenched around the fabric balled in his hands, tensing to try and feel it. Trying to hold on. But everything felt numb and he couldn’t get the nerves to wake up at all.

“I know you really didn’t care about L’manberg, and that’s… fine, you know? But… Dream was going to hurt a lot of people. Was gonna hurt _me_ and _Quackity_ , so I kinda figured…”

Karl hadn’t shown up to Doomsday. He’d been too busy in a scuffed little town watching and narrating a little murder mystery he hadn’t bothered think twice about.

Quackity added, “And you weren’t there to help Tommy or Tubbo either. Dream… he had so much of our shit, you know? Just keeping it. He probably had something of your’s too. And— and he almost _killed_ Tubbo, you know? And where were you for that?”

Karl hadn’t shown up to Dream’s capture. He’d been too busy walking through an Atlantis of falsehoods and fiction, horrified at what their world had become.

“Again,” Sapnap mumbled, “I hadn’t seen Quackity in forever, but even _he_ was there.”

Karl glanced between the expectant gazes, too overwhelmed to speak, clenching down on his hands he couldn’t feel anymore, sinking into the chair that felt like a hologram he could phase through at any moment.

It was at that exact moment when he realized. “Uh… Oh God…”

“The fuck do you have to say for yourself?” Quackity growled.

“No—“ The room felt as if it were spinning, and every corner was fuzzy like heat mirages off of a road.

He had to get out before it happened.

“I have to go,” He blurted, mouth moving as if he were talking through water.

“You can’t fucking run away from this, Karl,” Quackity pressed, voice equally as distorted, and even in his haze he could tell that Quackity was mad, and he _hated_ when Quackity was mad, and felt guilt seep through the panic. “Sit the fuck down. You can’t keep disappearing on us. Where have you been?”

But he wasn’t running away from the conversation, he was falling out of the world, and if he could, Karl would’ve told him that right then and there what was happening but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and he knew he wasn’t allowed to speak.

With great effort, he forced himself into his body long enough to stand up, knocking the chair over and wishing he had the mouth to apologize for it. He began to stumble away, but his shoes felt eight sizes too large and he was pretty sure he was tripping and falling against a chest pushed against the wall.

“Quackity wait—“ That was Sapnap— “Wait, no I think he’s actually like—“

“Karl…?” And that was Quackity, “… Wait, shit are you okay?”

The door really wasn’t far. Karl pushed himself up, intending to use the wall as a guide. But when he reached for it, his hand felt as though it phased through, as if there was no wall to begin with, as if the room were made of enough constant, baffling wind to make objects feel solid in lucidity.

No— the wall was there. Karl’s cheek and nose slammed harshly into it where his hand had missed and he stumbled back as pain shot through his face. He heard a couple alarmed shouts, but he couldn’t tie the voices down.

The hit made him fall back, but he didn’t fall through the ground this time. Warmth, pleasant and startlingly solid, came to rest on his back and shoulder, hands helping him up, and when Karl blinked up the world looked momentarily like Sapnap, and what a beautiful world that was to be in. He wanted to wrap himself in the arms supporting him and shut his eyes. Sapnap’s hugs felt good, he knew that much.

He registered himself saying, “Thanks, James,” but wait, that wasn’t right— none of this was right. Where was he again?

The door, right, the door.

He hated it, but he forced himself away from someone’s grasp and tripped until his hands might’ve felt like they came into contact with cool brass, but then again, his hands were floating away so it was hard to tell. He pushed down nonetheless, and the surface gave way, and the air shifted and became fresher and there were little lights in the distant blackened air and yes, he’d made it outside.

He reached into his hoodie’s pocket and instinctively knew where to find the ender pearl, terrified of losing the marble-sized crystal due to his fumbling fingers, and as best he could, hurled it into the horizon.

Someone called his name from behind. He turned and that _must’ve_ been Quackity, who was mad at him seconds ago. Karl didn’t want him to be mad. So, before his words went away, he gave a slurred, “Sorry…”

And then his body was ripped forward, through the air, over a thousand chunks of land and he was falling. He felt himself hit the grassy ground of elsewhere face first, the shards of the broken pearl somewhere beneath his shoulder. And finally, knowing he’d gotten away, he shut his unfocused eyes, felt the ground disappear, and let himself fall through the world until he was gone.


	2. So We Are Always Living In The Present Tense

_Saturday, October 10, 2020 - 6 days until the festival_

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes were the flags.

Little triangles on strings in different reds yellows and blues flapping gently in the sky, solid and fragile.

When he managed to turn his head to the right he saw another flag. Black with red line detailing. He could almost place his finger on where he remembered it.

His hands had returned to him and he could feel blades of grass beneath his fingers as he flexed them. His cheek was tickled by a soft breeze, his body weighted by gravity.

A slow heaviness rested on Karl’s chest and limbs, as if the mass of his bones and muscle had just settled fully. It was nice, to not be disoriented, yet he felt so weighted down that it was near paralysis. He couldn’t move much more than his fingers and head.

He was laying on the ground, he was sure of that much now, though the where was the issue. The closest thing to him was a metal folding chair set out on the ground a few feet away, and perhaps if he could reach it he’d be able to pull himself up, sit, and get his wits together. He flexed his fingers, telling his arm to move. It stubbornly slept.

“… Karl?”

He knew that voice. Robin?

A blob of green entered his peripheral and came to crouch beside him. No; Tubbo.

“… What’re you doing on the ground?”

His tongue felt weightier than a block of netherite, but he managed to part his mouth and swipe it over his dry lips. Traveling always took it out of him and made him want to nap for a solid while before he attempted to look around. Perhaps the ground wasn’t such a bad place to be, especially if Tubbo was there.

With a clumsy mouth, he managed, “… Just… chilling. Looking around.”

Tubbo loomed a bit closer, coming into fuller definition, and Karl saw his crooked teenage smile in focus. “Admiring my festival decorations?”

“Festival decorations,” Karl echoed.

“You coming?”

Festival decorations. Tubbo was here. Tubbo had never been anywhere Karl had travelled to before. So this couldn’t have been too far in the future…

No. The past. Karl’s eyes flitted up, and Tubbo’s face was unburnt and smooth. Dotted with maturing acne in places, but otherwise unmarred.

He hadn’t been executed yet. He’d only gotten that after he’d been executed.

Festival decorations.

“L’manberg,” Karl realized.

Tubbo gave him a bewildered, but patient look. “Uh, yeah?” Then he paused, glancing over his shoulder, smile faltering and eyes dropping. “Well… You know… Schlatt wants us calling it Manberg now.”

Schlatt was alive.

Karl’s stomach sunk. “Yes, uh, of course, I’m… tired.”

“Are you okay Karl? You look a little…”

“Can you help me up?” He interjected before Tubbo could get too nosy.

“Oh, uh, sure! Gimme a hand!” Tubbo rose to a knee and held out a hand for Karl to grab.

With great effort Karl fought to find his muscles again and got his hand to shakily raise, feeling the warmth and solidity of Tubbo’s fingers under his and letting Tubbo take over holding the limb up.

Tubbo, clearly seeing the amount of struggle the simple action took, frowned, brow pinching in worry. “Karl…?”

Karl let his hefty eyelids fall closed and whispered, “Can I stay at your place for a sec? To nap?”

“Well, of course, but—“

“— Please don’t ask questions.”

And for what it was worth, Tubbo didn’t ask a thing more as he guided Karl to his home.

The moment his head hit Tubbo’s pillow, he fell asleep.

After a brief 7 hour nap, a liter of water, and something that vaguely resembled an egg McMuffin, Karl was feeling much more alert and ready to tackle the world. Tubbo ensured he was okay, Karl thanked him graciously, and then left before he could get interrogated any further.

He’d managed to get a sense of time scraped together. It was Schlatt’s presidency, before the Manberg-Pogtopia war, and according to Tubbo, the first festival was in a week.

That meant that Karl had a lot to consider.

First, he found an empty journal, sat under L’mantree, and wrote.

It was an odd situation. All the other places he’d travelled had either been so far in the past or future that his actions would have little immediate consequence. This, in comparison, was outlandish. These people were still breathing and living, and the effects of the upcoming week would be felt for ages to come.

The first question he had to consider: Should Manberg be destroyed or not?

It seemed almost inevitable. Truly, if he prevented it now (if he was even _capable_ ), it would likely just happen again.

But considering he’d _definitely_ have to prevent Tubbo’s execution, he’d much rather not have the ground explode beneath him whilst he was trying to.

He wrote down _“Don’t let Manberg get destroyed”,_ and below it, “ _Don’t let Tubbo die”._

Dream. What to do about Dream?

Karl’s quill paused over the page, dripping ink where it hovered. He looked up over Manberg and, most strangely of all, was hit with a sense of perturbed calm.

This was all a crater. The cradling trees, the pillowy grass, the sloping, soft hills.

But that was okay.

Karl had never cared for L’manberg. He’d sided with Dream and Schlatt ultimately because Dream was his _friend_ , and perhaps with a grudge against Tommy and Wilbur for excluding him from the nation in the first place. But truly… he could care less what happened to the little country.

Because at that time, he’d only cared about supporting and having fun with his friends.

He mourned the loss of his naivety as the leaves of the eventually-to-be-burned tree rattled above him. He missed being able to do whatever he cared about because it was _fun._ He missed the blindness to the cruelty of their world, the cruelty of Dream. Dream who was his _friend._

After the fact, he’d always liked to tell anyone who had listened that he’d always supported Pogtopia, and that they were in the right. He was a liar. He just wanted to make himself seem correct when in reality, he’d sat and done whatever Dream had told him to. Anything for the hell of it.

Now was his chance to put his money where his mouth was. He was wiser now. He wouldn’t make the same mistake.

He wrote, “ _Help Pogtopia”_ and snapped the book shut.

“Karl!”

He’d been sitting in the metal folding chair he’d woken up next to. He realized, now, that they were lined up in front of the podium and stage ahead, garlanded in flags for the upcoming celebration. He found he’d been hovering around the town like a ghost for most of the day, doing nothing productive but stare. Logically, Karl knew he likely had things to be doing, and tried to remember what he’d been up to during this time before the festival. He mostly recalled helping Tubbo decorate and hanging around Rutabagville. How unhelpful was _that,_ he thought, when war was looming around the corner? How could he have been so blind?

The voice in question that broke him out of his thoughts belonged to a Sapnap jogging towards him and clapping him hard on the shoulder. Like the action itself had given him a shot of euphoria, he instantly felt at ease, like he’d been reminded he had a body, and one that was warm and breathing and loved hugs from his fiancee.

His _fiancees_ , he realized with a pleasant start. Karl had forgotten his fiancees!

Sapnap smiled down at him and squeezed him. “Hey, where have you been?”

“Uh…” Karl said dumbly, staring up at the man’s lax smile. He _missed_ that kind of smile on Sapnap.

Thankfully, Sapnap continued for him. “Tubbo said you looked almost dead this morning. Told me to check on you.”

Karl’s chest swelled at the notion of being the object of Sapnap’s worry and airily he said, “You came!”

Sapnap’s brow furrowed, head cocking not unlike a St. Bernard’s.“What was up with that? You okay?”

Perhaps Karl was still a bit dizzy from the time travel, or perhaps his fiancee was just very sweet, because he promptly forgot the question he’d just been asked and gave an, “… Mmmhm!”

Sapnap gave a huffed laugh. “Are you sure? Because you’re just kinda sitting out here staring at nothing.”

Finally, he managed to scrape words together. “Uh… yeah, haha, I dunno. I feel sleepy today. You know how it is.” That was hypocritical, because not even Karl himself Knew How It Was.

Sapnap didn’t seem quite satisfied with this answer, but he didn’t push. Rubbing circles over Karl’s shoulder blade with a thumb, he just gave an, “Mmm… okay? Take care of yourself, yeah? I just came to see you— I’ll check on you when I’m back.”

By _God_ did that feel nice. Karl leaned heavily into the touch, eyes wanting to slip shut and maybe wanting to nap a bit longer. He gave a muttered, “You’re leaving?”

“Mmhm. Dream wants to hang. Might go to another realm for a day or two. I think he has something planned.”

“Oh…” Karl couldn’t hide the disappointment from his voice, “Alright.”

And then, best of all, Sapnap leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. Instantly Karl gave a surprised little laugh he hadn’t known was brewing. “See you soon babe.”

He left promptly and Karl called a “Bye!” after him, a hand raising to his cheek to hold his smile.

How wonderful was that, he thought. To be loved. To be touched so softly and with such care. And what a shame Sapnap had to leave so soon. He’d much rather pulled Sapnap back home, settled in to watch Harry Potter and fallen asleep on his shoulder or something of the sort.

But then, with a start, he realized that this was the beauty in _two_ fiancees. When one was unavailable, he always had the other.

Karl was on his feet so fast it made his head spin. Where _was_ Quackity?

He floated down the streets, looking down alleys and corners, and when he heard a loud, boisterous laugh on the wind, he followed it like a dog to a whistle.

The White House. The voices were coming from the White House. Quackity’s was loudest, and perhaps that was Fundy’s voice too, but Karl truly didn’t care, because the world was still not quite properly oriented yet and, he wasn’t meant to be there, he wasn’t meant to be able to come to the past like this, the world was made of illusions, but that was his _fiancee’s_ voice and it was the most beautiful sound in the world and it was _real_ and the one thing that made sense, and he stumbled from between the trees to see Quackity laughing, smiling—

With Schlatt’s arm wrapped around his back. With Schlatt’s hand on his waist. With a ring on Schlatt’s index finger that matched Quackity’s.

With Schlatt, Quackity’s definitely not dead fiancee, staring down at Karl’s future fiancee with a wolfish, sharp grin.

Karl stopped short before he could emerge from the shadows, feeling as though he’d been clotheslined.

He couldn’t do much else than stare. Simply stare as the couple listened to whatever Fundy was on about. Stare at the way Quackity’s head leaned easily against Schlatt’s chest. Stare at how Schlatt brushed it away, as if he were flicking off a bug. Stare at how Schlatt then squeezed Quackity’s hip sharply, possessively, bruising in the worst way. Stare at how Quackity’s gaze snapped down to the hand uncertainly, his smile weakening out of nervousness and his body stiffening a little.

Subtle. Not enough for Schlatt to notice the discomfort, but Karl knew Quackity, and he knew when his fiancee was uncomfortable.

Not his fiancee yet, he realized. Not anymore.

Karl stared.

He did not consider himself a man of violence. He’d been in battles and wars, of course, but never out of a desire for bloodlust. He didn’t actively try to hurt individuals.

But when he saw Quackity standing next to that disgusting man who he’d heard so many nauseating things about…

The anger washed over him, red and sticky in his chest, down his arms, into his clenched fingers. Unbridled rage winding up his coils, forcing his posture straight, pulling his jaw to a clench and grit. Making his breaths grate against his lungs and nose like smoke. Invigorated, any and all tiredness and confusion, any and all doubt of where he was and what world his feet were cemented in dissipated instantly.

He was going to _kill_ Schlatt.

“Definitely, Mr. President,” He registered Fundy reply.

President, Karl thought, letting out a sharp breath. He was the president. And though he wanted so badly to march up and knock the man’s teeth out, Karl was not blinded by irrationality. He knew that assaulting the president of any country was a bad idea. He absolutely _had_ to be careful with each and every action he made, lest he accidentally screw up history forever.

So though it pained him to do so, Karl turned and left the scene. Silently he assured himself that he’d be able to fix everything in time. He didn’t get to choose when he went back, but when he did return to the present, it often made sense and didn’t catch him by surprise; either the result of an event or story ending, tied up with a neat little bow, or from him dying. It was never as sudden as when he travelled in the first place.

There was too much to be done here for him to just leave yet, he knew. While he was still trying to figure out the meaning behind his power, he was aware of one fact: he travelled to different timelines to purposely be shown something. By whom, he did not know, but there was always something for him to see.

He got the feeling he’d be here a bit longer.

His home looked rather similar to how it did in the present day, minus the library tucked into the back corner. Karl wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed and take yet another nap, but he still felt too tense with anger he hadn’t been able to walk of.

Quackity had never gone into detail about what his and Schlatt’s relationship had looked like, but Karl knew two things:

1\. Their relationship had ended badly.

2\. Quackity loathed Schlatt more than anybody.

So that alone didn’t bode well for him.

The memory of Schlatt’s grimy hand on Quackity’s hip, daring to _touch_ him, replayed in Karl’s head as he brought out his notebook and fetched a quill.

Karl wrote one final bulletpoint on his to-do list:

_“Keep Alex safe.”_

Today he would rest. Today he would get his bearings. Today he would settle, prepare, and wait.

Tomorrow he would change the world.


	3. It Seems Unforgiving When A Good Thing Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: makes the first two chapters average at 2,000 words each, creating an expected pace to follow through each chapter  
> Also me: makes chapter 3 thrice as long as chapter 1 or 2 respectively
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: There are references to sexual content in this chapter (though it isn't detailed or even remotely explicit), and of course, depictions of an abusive relationship. Be careful as you read.

_Sunday, October 11, 2020 - 5 days until the festival_

Schlatt’s voice alone was enough to make Karl’s mouth fill with blood.

A man so vile wasn’t deserving of such a silk tongue, and every honeyed word sounded soured behind his smile. A laugh alone caused Karl’s hair to stand on end, as if his personal space had been invaded by the his words alone. He had no idea how Quackity dealt with it when the guy actually _touched_ him.

Alas, he was forced to listen when the president found him idly chatting in the square with Tubbo and commanded his attention.

“Tubbo…” The man said, a drawl hanging onto his softness, “Don’t you have a job to be doing?”

Karl felt iron, hot and salty, fill his mouth at the command disguised as a suggestion, and had he been a little braver, he might’ve interjected.

Tubbo ducked his head, shooting Karl an apologetic glance. “Right. Sorry, Mr. President,” He muttered before skirting away.

Karl was half tempted to follow him and escape the situation, but the president had already turned his attention onto him. “Karl… for someone so useless, you’re sure good at taking up space, huh? You’re aware we have a festival in less than a week, right?”

He realized, now, the source of the taste in his mouth. He was biting his tongue so hard it had split the muscle, blood soaking his tastebuds. He wished it was one of Schlatt’s major arteries he was chewing instead.

Of course, he didn’t voice this. He gave a tight, “Useless, sir?”

“You sit in the middle of town like a fuckin’ puppy waiting for someone to come talk to you, and that’s it.”

Karl knew, begrudgingly, that this statement was true. Saving the world was a lot easier when written on paper, and significantly less easy when he hardly knew where to start. Since he’d arrived the day prior, he’d mulled around and chatted (being very careful of his words) with anyone he crossed paths with. Perhaps he wanted some reassurance from other voices that he was where he was, trapped in the past.

So as much as he hated to admit it, Schlatt was right. “I apologize, sir. Is there anything I can do?” He responded with forced cordiality.

“I love when people ask me that,” Schlatt joked as if Karl would agree. He did not. “Yes, actually. Quackity’s been bitching about invites since last night. Normally I’d have Fundy go sort it out but… eh, I don’t want to go find him. You help him.”

Karl did not like being talked to like this. However, at the mention of Quackity, he had to be partially thankful that Schlatt had stopped him to give him the order.

“Of course, Mr. President,” He agreed much more readily than he’d been seconds prior, “Where can I find him?”

“Hell if I know. Try the White House.”

Karl gave a nod and hurried away from the conversation as fast as he could go, eager to get away from the man and find the boy he loved.

Quackity was, in fact, at the White House. Karl found him in an airy office-like room, hunched over a desk scattered with paper, mumbling to himself. He was dressed well for the job, though in the privacy of his home and office he seemed more relaxed; his suit jacket was thrown over a desk chair, and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top— the crisp sleeves rolled messily up to his elbows. Despite his proper position and clothing, his beanie still sat familiarly on his head.

A window large to the VP’s right cast him in bright noon light, and as if he’d stumbled upon an angel illuminated by the sun, Karl stopped and felt his breath catch at the animated painting before him.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Quackity was muttering to himself, still unaware of Karl’s presence, “What’s the point in having chairmen if they don’t _do_ anything? Then it’s just giving fancy names to your secretaries…” He paused to rub at his neck, brow furrowed down disapprovingly at his paperwork. Karl mentally berated himself over the fact that _this_ had been within the White House walls the entire time he’d been in Manberg, and yet not once had Karl stopped by and introduced himself sooner.

Quackity sighed, eyes trailing up, and nearly did a double take when he realized that he was no longer alone. Immediately he straightened. “Karl?”

“Hi,” Karl said uselessly.

Quackity gave him a kind smile, and even in business, the boy was nothing but genuine. “What do you need?”

_You._

“Uh…” Karl struggled to remember what Schlatt had instructed him to do, as if all thoughts had escaped him along with his breath. “Um… Schlatt said…” The festival. Invitations, Karl remembered, “Yeah, he said something about helping you with invitations. So that’s why I’m here.”

Quackity chuckled and shook his head. “That’s kind of the bastard,” He joked with too much fondness for Karl’s liking, “God, Tubbo said he was gonna do those, but he fuckin’ ghosted me! Man, I haven’t even started…”

Karl took the initiative to approach Quackity’s side. Then, because it was begging to be hopped on, he hopped onto the desk and sat to face him. “So what’s this then?” He asked, tilting his head towards the flooded desk.

“Boring shit you probably don’t care about.” Quackity glanced out the window, smile dampening, eyes searching over the hills. “Did… Schlatt tell you where he was going? I wanted to meet with him later to talk about some of this, but…”

He trailed off. Karl shrugged; he hadn’t waited to see where Schlatt had walked off to in his eagerness to get away. “He didn’t say.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Quackity mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. The more Karl stared, the more disheveled and tired the man looked with his tensed shoulders and gaze half-lidded. And the more Karl stared, the more his hands twitched at his sides, begging to reach out and ease that tension away.

“Are you okay?” He offered instead.

Quackity chuckled again, but nodded. “Yeah, yeah, it’s good. I’m good. Schlatt just likes leaving lots of, uh, ‘homework’ for me.”

Karl plucked one of the papers from the desk and inspected it, since Quackity didn’t seem keen on explaining it himself. He did not understand half of the words in front of his face.

“What the heck is an archbishop?” He asked aloud.

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“You don’t know what an archbishop is either?”

“No—“ Quackity smiled and leaned against the desk, glancing over Karl’s shoulder to the paper, “I mean… like, what _does_ it mean, really? Like, everyone gets all these titles to make them feel like they’re doing something constructive for the country, like he’s trying to make it seem like we have some sort of cabinet where everyone’s voices get to be heard. But in actuality it’s just like… participation awards! Like, what has he told you you are?”

Karl fought to remember what title he’d been bestowed during his time in Manberg. He recalled he’d had one, but didn’t remember what it had been. “Um…”

“See? It doesn’t even matter.”

Karl glanced blankly over the paper again before getting bored of it. He turned, placed on the desk, and began to fold it. “I mean, I guess not. But like… didn’t he proclaim himself emperor when he got elected? Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Well, yeah, but he was joking.”

Karl chuckled doubtfully. “Was he?”

“Yeah… What are you doing?”

Karl had turned the document into a paper airplane in record time. He lifted it, tossed it high in the air, and it made a large arc through the room before nosediving halfway through its tragic flight. “L,” Karl mused before turning back to Quackity, who was giving him an amused, but tired look. “But you’re Vice President. Doesn’t he have you doing something special?”

“Yep! I get to do everything his lazy ass is too hungover to do!” Quackity replied with gritted, sarcastic excitement, picking up a stack of paper and tossing them to the side with a heavy thud, “Which is fun!”

Karl stared over the mountain of parchment, drumming his fingers on the wood in 3/4 time. “Well… He sent me to help. I mean, I don’t know how good I’d be with whatever the heck any of… _this—“_ He gestured to the table, “— is, but I can try…?”

“Ehhh… I’m not gonna bore your ass with that. Schlatt sent you here for invitations?”

“That’s what he said.”

Quackity groaned and pulled over the nearby desk chair before plopping down in it and stretching his arms over his head. Karl stared, grieving the fact that his fiancee never wore dress shirts anymore.

“Yeah, so basically, on top of all this shit,” Quackity sighed, “I have to make invitations and send them out to… literally everyone. Even though everyone probably already knows already. Shit, you can’t avoid it. You go outside and can’t get through a single God damn conversation without hearing ‘festival festival festival!’”

It was a little grotesque, in hindsight, how eager Schlatt was to advertise a public execution. Karl fought a grimace. “… Are you looking forward to it?”

Quackity’s head tilted back against the seat and he swept his bangs out of the way, fiddling with the edge of his beanie. “… I guess?” He gave a lax smile to the ceiling. “… Kinda would prefer the weekend off.”

Karl wondered in the back of his mind how someone could be so effortlessly intriguing, how every action stole his breath despite its simplicity. If he were allowed to speak of his secret, how would he say that he’d twisted time and ended up at his side over and over by the strings of fate? How would he say that he’d give pieces of himself up time and time again just to see him safer, to see him happier if given the chance?

He couldn’t, of course. Instead, he breathlessly offered, “Who do you need to write to? I can do it.”

Quackity quickly declined, “Just because Schlatt told you to doesn’t mean you have to.”

“But you do?”

He seemed to consider this, then shook his head with a chuckle. He pointed to a stack of clean printer paper and a quill at the corner of his desk. “They don’t have to be long. Just the date and time and location and shit.”

Karl snatched a slip of paper and dragged the inkwell over, instantly beginning to write. Of course, he had to begin with the most important guest:

_Hey Quackity there is a party on Saturday in Manberg and you should come. Karl is going to be there and he is so so cool so you won’t want to miss him. We can do lots of popping off and it will be great. Please come please? :) Love, the Invitation Man._

He folded this into a paper airplane and shot it easily into a distracted Quackity’s lap, who glanced to it and then up at Karl with suspicion behind a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Wasn’t me.”

After unfolding and reading the plane’s contents, Quackity laughed a little, crumpling the note into a ball and throwing it directly at Karl’s head. “Shut the fuck up,” He teased.

“It wasn’t me, it was the Invitation Man,” Karl insisted, already reaching for another sheet.

Quackity rolled his eyes before returning to looking at whatever important legal thing was in front of him.

A minute later, another plane landed in his lap. “Fucking hell, what is it?”

_Hey Quackity sorry I forgot to mention but you need to RSVP to the invitation ok? Please write back :) Best regards, the Invitation Man._

Another paper ball to the head, but a stronger chuckle.

Another plane.

_Please don’t assault the Invitation Man and please please respond Mr. Vice President Quackmeister. Karl is going to be very lonely at the festival and wants to know if you can spare some time from your busy schedule to hang out with him because he will be very sad otherwise and lonely and will look lame sitting by himself. So please reply soon. :( Regretfully, the Invitation Man._

Karl leaned back to lie on the table and stare up at the ceiling. A minute of nothing, save for the sound of quill scratching on paper. For a moment, Karl feared he’d annoyed him too much and was now getting ignored.

Then, a paper airplane floating to gently rest on Karl’s chest.

_Karl,_

_If I can get away from my fiancee and supreme duties as the best Vice President ever, I would love to pop off with you *blushes*. Not Invitation Man or whoever the fuck though he can eat shit I hate him. But ur cool yeah sure I’ll come._

_\- Mike Hawk B)_

Karl laughed like a middle school boy who’d just been told a dirty joke (which wasn’t far off), and Quackity returned with similar giggles.

It was a start.

Now to get him away from the fiancee.

Karl did eventually write proper invitations for everyone and sealed them away in envelopes. When he asked Quackity about mailing them, he was met with a laugh.

“We’re a fucking mess,” Said Quackity, “You think we have a postal system? We barely have a government.”

This was true, Karl realized. “So who’s gonna deliver them?”

“Me, probably. Schlatt sure as hell won’t.”

The SMP was big— Karl himself barely knew where everyone lived. Though he wanted to be helpful, he knew he’d likely just take longer to do the task and would probably get lost a thousand times over. “I’d do it for you, but I hardly can find my way around here.”

“Eh. It’s fine. You’re probably pretty busy.”

Karl chuckled, wishing he were and knowing he probably ought to be. “No, actually. I’m not… I don’t really do anything.”

“Oh...” Quackity hesitated, piling all the envelopes up into a stack. He bit his lip, staring down at the daunting pile, then glanced up to Karl. “I mean… if you want, you could come with me tomorrow and help? I mean, you don’t have to,” He paused to laugh, “Shit, I’m probably boring you to death—“

“I’d like that,” Karl interjected far too enthusiastically, “No, dude, I love hanging with you!”

He realized after the fact how horribly embarrassing and obvious that likely was, cursing the fact that reverting to the past had also seemingly reverted him to a middle school girl struggling be competent around her crush of the week.

Quackity reacted before he could amend the statement. “… Kaaaarl!” He exclaimed, voice pitching up at the vowel. Faking flusteredness, he leaned back in his seat and rested a hand on his chest with a cheeky smile. “ _¡Me sonrojas!_ ”

And Karl didn’t know what that meant, but he took it as a good sign.

* * *

_Monday, October 12, 2020 - 4 days until the festival_

Quackity had bruises on his wrists.

Karl first took notice of them when Quackity had met up with him before setting out around the town to disperse the invitations (which was still meant to be Tubbo’s task until Karl intercepted him and told him not to worry about it, eager to steal away whatever moments he could with the Vice President). Apparently he had an important meeting with Schlatt and was on a time crunch, he’d explained as he’d rolled up the sleeve of his blazer to check his watch, revealing little purpling marks circling the silver band.

Karl wasn’t totally sure if it was his place to ask yet, but the sight alone had made him want to bite his tongue until it bled again. To spare himself that pain, he pointed to them and asked, “What happened?”

He was expecting a lie in response to the pushy question, but to his surprise, Quackity just smirked and immediately said, “Schlatt.”

The bluntness caught him off guard. “What!?”

Quackity just laughed with a high pitched little, “Mmhm!”

“Dude, you’re… are you okay?”

Then he got a little glint in his eye, giving Karl a cheeky little smile, and muttered, “Karl, I _asked_ for them.”

“Oh…?” Karl glanced between the marks and the mischievous expression until it clicked. “Oh!” Then he went hot with embarrassment at this discovery he’d never wanted to make. “Oh…” Then he thought of Schlatt grabbing Quackity, touching him, _hurting_ him.

_Oh._

Quackity barked a scratchy laugh at his flustered reaction. “Oh my god dude, your fuckin’ face!”

Karl glowered at the floor, the envelopes he held in his hand, ready for delivery, crinkling under his tightening grip.

The giggles tapered down. “What, don’t you have a fiancee?” Quackity asked, bumping shoulders with him.

Karl dog eared the corner of Niki’s envelope, needing to do something with his hands before they ripped into all of his hard work. “I, uh, yeah. I just don’t really care for… _that_ stuff.”

“Ah, okay, I got you,” Quackity assured. And though he dropped the subject, the grin never left his face, to Karl’s dismay.

They fell into place with each other easily, and Karl found solace in the way the echo of their footsteps gave perfect, rhythmic accompaniment to their conversation. There was never an awkward beat in the words, never a lull that didn’t feel relaxed, never a joke that didn’t land. It was a familiar song, and each tangent that Quackity went on was met with the most enthusiastic audience available. Often he seemed surprised that Karl was still even listening, pausing whenever he became aware of the eyes watching him intently and sparing Karl a shy, almost appreciative smile before continuing.

Eventually the conversation progressed to: “I know he’s stressed because of the festival coming up, I mean shit, it’s our first big event since the election. But… I don’t know. It still pisses me off when he just ignores me.”

“… You seem frustrated with him a lot,” Karl observed quietly as he set dual invitations on Bad and Skeppy’s windowsill. Half-joking, he added, “You talk like you hate him.”

Quackity, leaning his head against the wall of the “Skephalo Estate” (as he’d dubbed it), sighed, “I hate him as a president. Not as a fiancee or a person, y’know?”

Karl turned to him fully. “Why’d you help him win then?”

For a long moment, Quackity hesitated, fingers trailing over his wrists as he glanced past Karl entirely. Then he gave a sad smile, the first of the day, and said, “I knew I was going to lose. But… I also knew that I’d get _some_ votes… just not enough. I could still be an asset. And Wilbur offered to pool votes with me, but… He didn’t promise me anything in return. Nothing I wanted anyways. Schlatt… Schlatt let me be his Vice President. He let me be a part of things. He saw my potential that Wilbur didn’t, and he gave me a chance to let that potential grow. Because… he loves me, you know?”

Karl felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, sure it wasn’t from the October chill. “He kinda just gives you paperwork, though, doesn’t he? You said it yourself— he doesn’t let you make any decisions.”

Quackity paused, smile faltering, then pushed away from the house, starting to walk away. Karl rushed to catch up with him. “Am I wrong?” He asked.

“No,” Quackity admitted, “I… look. I’m hopeful. ‘Cause— Karl, ‘cause here’s the other thing… Wilbur was corrupt by default. I disagree with tyranny, but I would’ve had a hell of a lot more respect for him if he’d called off the election and just been dictator for as long as he wanted. It’s at least more respectable than holding a rigged election and making it _seem_ like you have a democracy. That’s just— that’s just fucking lying to your citizens. That’s just gross.” He scowled, and Karl wanted to kiss it away, which was difficult to grapple with when he was trying to be a supportive friend and pay attention to Quackity’s words. “So… I had two choices. Either side with the known evil… or take a chance with the unknown evil, where I had more of a chance of steering Manberg away from a dictatorship. And…”

“And… did it work?” Karl supplied.

Quackity stared off, brow slowly crinkling and jaw setting as he thought this question over. Then, with fogged eyes, he turned to Karl and quietly admitted, “I don’t know.”

They zig-zagged across the SMP, greeting those they passed in kind and dropping invites at everyone’s doors. By the time the sun was sinking, they had only one more.

“This is probably a waste of time, honestly,” Karl chuckled as they approached Sapnap’s house, “He’s in another realm with Dream right now. Didn’t tell me when he’d get back.”

“Think they’re playing one of their games of tag?” Quackity snickered.

Karl laughed fondly at the thought of Sapnap returning with a scratchy voice after days of yelling, legs tired after hours upon hours of chasing, letting Karl rub the soreness from his muscles and retelling the story in grandeur and with sound effects to boot. “Who knows what those darn kids get up to.”

“You miss him?”

“Of course. I don’t sleep well without cuddles at night,” He huffed jokingly.

Quackity cackled softly. “Cuddles?”

“Mmhm.” Karl set the invite in front of Sapnap’s door, careful to make sure it would be covered from any possible rain they received over the next couple days. “He’s sweet, when he isn’t murdering animals.”

“But you don’t fuck.”

He shifted foot to foot before turning from the door. “… Not really, no.”

“What do you do then?”

Karl was almost taken aback by the question, not entirely sure how to respond. “Uh… couple stuff?”

Quackity came to his side, and they moved away from the house and onto the road to home. “Well yeah, like what?”

“I mean…” Karl shrugged, “We kiss, we eat together, he talks about the adventures he’s been on with Dream and George, I talk about all the expensive cars I’ve given away with my friends.”

Quackity laughed at that, crinkling his nose. Karl had to remind himself which fiancee he was busy rambling about before he accidentally let something slip.

“We plan our Harry Potter themed wedding,” Karl continued, “We watch Harry Potter, we have a Harry Potter bookclub, we plan trips to Universal Studios so we can go to Harry Potter World…”

“I’m sensing a theme here.”

Karl smiled at the ground. “We dance.”

“Dance,” Quackity echoed.

“Yeah. I mean, we dance badly, but… we dance. We cuddle. We sleep together— literally, I mean. We sit on the roof and talk at night.”

“What, you look at the stars or some cheesy shit?”

“I mean… yeah, honestly.”

That got him a glance, fleeting and curious. “You sleep together… like… share a bed?”

“Yeah!”

Humor gone from his voice, Quackity asked, “… What else?”

Karl wasn’t sure how to identify the look on his blank face, so he softly continued, “Uh… I mean… We make dinner together and Sap burns everything he touches. We steal each other’s clothes because they’re comfortable. We talk a lot. Sometimes about stupid crap and nonsense, sometimes about deep stuff. Sometimes…” He shrugged. “Sometimes we don’t do anything. Sometimes we just sit in a room and do different things… but we’re still together.”

Quackity stared at him a long moment before giving a, “Sounds lame,” That Karl didn’t buy for a second.

He countered with, “What do you and Schlatt do together?”

The heavy 5 second silence before Quackity began to respond told him everything he needed to know.

“… We go out to dinner sometimes and he pays for me,” Quackity then boasted, “He can’t go a fuckin’ second without flirting with me, it’s hot. And… y’know. We fuck.”

Karl waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, he pressed, “What else?”

Quackity opened his mouth to respond, but no words came immediately. After a moment, he sputtered, “Well— I mean, you know… he’s president and I’m Vice President— the festival, too. We’re busy, so we haven’t been doing a lot.”

“… Makes sense.”

“Yeah, aha… the most we’ve really talked this week is in, like… meetings.” Quackity froze mid step, eyes going wide. “Fuck.”

“What?”

His hands flew up to grip at the collar of his shirt. “Fuck— _fuck,_ he wanted to meet with me today!”

Karl frowned. The sun was below the horizon by now— any engagements anyone had made during the day had come and gone. “Uh oh.”

“Fuck, shit, he’s gonna _kill_ me—“ Quackity whirled to him, “I’m so sorry, I’ve gotta—“

Karl nodded quickly, hoping that an exaggeration was hidden in that threat. “Yeah, go ahead dude. Good luck.”

Quackity gave him a worried smile, thanking him for his company and apologizing again before bolting off towards the horizon as fast as he could possibly go.

Karl’s skin itched with worry as he watched him leave. He made a note to go check on him the next day, and hoped Schlatt was feeling particularly merciful that evening.

* * *

_Tuesday, October 13, 2020 - 3 days until the festival_

The White House was locked.

Logically, Karl knew he was jumping to conclusions when he pounded on the door and called to ask if anyone was home. Sure, the White House was a public government facility, but it was also Schlatt and— by extension— Quackity’s home. It wasn’t unreasonable for them to want to keep people out during the day. Perhaps they weren’t even home and didn’t want anybody walking in and stealing their things.

That was probably it, Karl hoped as he stepped away from the door, preparing to leave.

There was a click as the door was opened.

“Karl,” Schlatt greeted, and as it opened, it revealed a darkened room behind him. A flood of bitter smell wafted out, and Karl could only picture it to be whisky. Schlatt grinned down at him with yellowed teeth. “What can I do for you?”

Schlatt was a tall man, and as he leaned an arm against the doorway, as if to physically bar Karl from entry, he loomed with a startling, disheveled presence. Karl’s hands sucked into his sleeves, his arms crossing over his chest as he tried and failed to stand tall. “… Is Quackity home?” He asked, which only got him a laugh in return.

“Yes, but ehhh…” Schlatt glanced back towards the darkness before turning back to face him. “He’s busy.”

Karl didn’t like the implications of that one bit. “Ah.”

“Yeah, uh… heard you kept him pretty occupied yesterday, yeah?”

Something plummeted in his stomach, bolts of startling fear shooting from his chest to his stomach. If _he_ was the cause of something happening to Quackity… the thought made him nauseous. “Uh… I mean, I’m sorry for keeping him for so long.”

“Oh no! It’s alright,” Schlatt assured, waving him off with a hand, “Nothing against you Mr. Jacobs, but, ehhh… You know…” He leaned down, close to Karl’s face, and the top half of Karl’s body wanted to run, but the bottom half was frozen with cemented feet. With a tone that made it sound as if they were both in on a shared, cruel joke, Schlatt said, “I’d hate for him to have any more _distractions_ right now… especially with the festival coming up so soon. I appreciate your help though. I’m sure he does too.”

Karl’s head jutted in a frantic little nod. Robotically, too panicked to let fear leak into his tone, he assured, “I understand.”

“Ahhh, I knew you would! I knew you would.” And then Schlatt brought a big, heavy hand down and clapped him on the shoulder, and a sharp little gasp escaped Karl’s mouth before he could stop it, and touching, he was being touched, Schlatt was _touching_ him. His hand was too heavy and too hot and too strong, and Karl couldn’t fathom these hands touching Quackity in anyway that could be even remotely loving.

Schlatt must’ve picked up on his paling fear, because he chuckled and straightened a little. Yet still, he did not let go. “My friend, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Karl could not respond. He feared that if he opened his mouth, all that would come out would be a whimper.

Schlatt barked a loud laugh, rubbing him on the shoulder for an agonizing moment before letting go and straightening up. “Am I that scary? Jesus…”

Karl’s hands were beginning to tremble again, and he couldn’t tell if it was from fear or if he was beginning to travel again. He silently prayed it was the former; as much as he wanted to escape the situation, he would not, _could_ not leave Quackity like this.

“Karl,” said the president, “I don’t mean to come off so intimidating! I guess I’m sorry?” He chuckled, “Look, I’m a reasonable guy. I want to be a president who gets along with his citizens, you know? You don’t have to be scared of me.”

Karl nodded again, unable to break eye contact.

“If you ever have something to say to me, _never_ hesitate to approach, okay?”

Another nod. “Mmhm.”

“Great.” Schlatt gave him a little wave, stepping back into the house. “Welp. Good talk. Hope to see you at the festival, yeah? It’s gonna be great.”

And then the door swung shut in Karl’s face, and there was a click as he was locked out.

Karl ripped himself away so fast that he tripped over his own feet, and then he was sprinting away as fast as he possibly could, down the hill, through the trees, and into town.

Manberg wasn’t safe. It wasn’t safe for anybody. It wasn’t safe for him and it wasn’t safe for Quackity. Quackity, who was seemingly trapped in that house with that _man_.

He didn’t know when, and he didn’t know where, but Karl knew that once he got the chance, once he’d fixed everything and he could take Quackity and run for the hills, he’d need somewhere to go.

He knew who he needed to find.

He found Tubbo slipping back into town through the trees and behind buildings in a secluded passage; one that Karl would have missed had he not been patrolling and hopping from roof to roof all day, waiting for just this occurrence to find him.

Catching him by surprise, Karl jumped down from overhead and intercepted Tubbo as he tried to sneak into the city.

Tubbo startled back. “Shit!” He yelped, “Jesus— Karl, you scared the shit out of me!”

Tone so icy he almost didn’t recognize it himself, Karl said, “I know you’re working with Pogtopia.”

Startle turned to fear. Tubbo went pale and shot a fleeting glance over his shoulder, as if to check that they weren’t being followed or watched. Then, with a crooked, nervous smile, he laughed, “Karl, what are you on about? Are you mental?”

“Schlatt knows too.”

Tubbo went dead quiet, eyes going to pinpricks as he fell into silent terror, as if he could see his death before it happened.

“He’s planning to execute you publicly at the festival,” Karl continued, because he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, “In front of everyone, after you’ve given your speech.”

Silence.

And then, a broken, terrified little, “… _What?_ ”

“I don’t know how he figured it out, but he did. He and I are the only ones here who know about you.”

Tubbo’s breathing shallowed, his eyes beginning to dart back and forth, and Karl had the conscience to be worried, but he had to keep talking, because this had been weighing on him since he’d arrived, and bearing this knowledge he had no right to was going to crush him to death if he didn’t speak of it. Perhaps dropping it on a kid wasn’t the best idea, but better him than anyone here who Karl wasn’t sure he could trust.

“Wilbur wants to blow it up. He’s going to—“ He insisted, “Do you know about that?”

“Wh—“ Tubbo’s brow furrowed and he shook his head frantically, “Tommy mentioned—but I didn’t think— what the fuck!? How the fuck did you—“

“I can’t tell you, okay? But you’re— you need to be more careful, okay? Because Schlatt’s figuring it out and I’m sure everyone else will too, and I don’t—“ Karl’s chest felt tight. He reached a hand out to lay it against the coarse stone wall to his right, feeling the roughness under his palm, feeling the world he was in. The then, not the now. Every move he made, every word he uttered could have disastrous effects on the future. He couldn’t publicly become an oracle in his panic, he had to take cautious action to steer things right. He had to be careful.

Taking a long, deep breath to calm himself, and seeing how Tubbo wasn’t faring much better, he slowed down and forced himself to calmly explain, “I didn’t tell Schlatt. Again, I don’t know how he knows, but I would never do that.” And then, realizing he probably should have started with such a reassurance, he said, “I’m not mad. I’m on your side.”

Tubbo squinted, scrutinizing his face. “You… what?”

“I want to help Pogtopia.”

Tubbo stared at him in cautious disbelief, and Karl couldn’t blame him for that. He continued, “If I didn’t want to help you, I wouldn’t have told you that Schlatt’s planning to execute you, would I?”

“What if you’re just making that up… what if—“

“Do you think I want you _dead,_ Tubbo?”

For a moment, Tubbo searched his face for a lie. When he found none, his body slowly relaxed and color returned to his face as he recognized that there was no threat present. The confusion did not leave, though. “You… what do you care about L’manberg? Why do you want to protect it.”

“I don’t need to care about Manberg or L’manberg or whatever the heck it is. I just need to hate Schlatt. And I—“ His shoulder seemed to tingle under the phantom handprint the man had left there, “I _hate_ Schlatt. I hate him.”

His fury must’ve been more than believable, because Tubbo straightened, lifted his chin, and gave him a strong nod. “I trust you… okay?”

“I swear. I promise, Tubbo.”

Tubbo raised a hand to rub at his neck, as if feeling for a noose, his eyes trailing to the ground. “Execute me…? How do you know any of this?”

Ignoring the second half of that question, Karl proceeded to carefully explain, “After you give your speech… get away, okay? Don’t listen to anything he says. Get off the stage and hide. Be careful.”

“… Okay?” Tubbo squinted, apparently committing this to memory, “Okay… Holy shit, okay.”

Karl forced himself to take another deep breath. “Sorry, I’m just— God…”

“… You really want to help us?”

“Yeah. I mean…” He sighed, staring up at cloudy sky through the bracketing branches overhead and thinking of strolling with Quackity at his side, just falling into that calm symphonic conversation. “I don’t want to spy or anything like that just yet. I just… I kinda have unfinished business here I need to take care of before I can focus on that.”

“… Yeah, I understand. Like what?”

“Like…” Quackity’s laugh, loud and warm enough to fill a room, swarmed his mind, “… helping a friend with something.”

Tubbo clearly wanted to pry, but he didn’t. “Alright…”

Karl shook himself of the thought and began to think forward to what would happen on Friday. He didn’t have his plan entirely figured out, but he knew the basics of what he wanted to do.“I’m gonna… so, Wilbur, right?”

“He’s really planning to…?”

“I’m gonna be busy at the festival stopping that, okay? And I’ll try to come before your speech so I can help you if I need to, but I can’t promise I’ll be there. But I’m not gonna let it get blown up.”

Tubbo nodded, but his eyes were hazed, as if he didn’t totally hear. “Wilbur… he… I didn’t think Tommy was serious…”

Karl reached out to lightly touch his arm and bring him back to reality. That, and also his hands needed to hold onto something before they shook apart. “I know this is a lot, okay? But I’m with you. I’m going to try and keep everyone safe, somehow.”

“Karl…” Tubbo’s eyes locked onto him. And then, wordlessly, he moved forward and threw his arms around Karl’s middle, and Karl clung to him just as hard. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been in need of a hug until then, but his body relaxed into the clutch like it was water to a wilting plant. “I’m really scared,” Tubbo mumbled against his shoulder, “I hate spying— I’m so scared—“

“I know. Me too… me too…” Karl assured, more honest with that admission than he’d been in weeks. Perhaps months. It was difficult to tell these days.

He stared over Tubbo’s shoulder and out at the secret little passage he’d only just discovered, wondering how many times Tubbo had traversed it through the dark, skittish and alone, between two places that never quite felt like home.

The thought did remind Karl of his original objective, and why he’d sought Tubbo out in the first place. Though he hated to do so, he pulled back from the hug to look him in the eye. “I know I said I have unfinished business, but… after the festival… I really don’t know where I’m going to end up or what’s going to happen. So… I know this might be a lot to ask, but… Pogtopia has a base somewhere, right? That’s where you just came from?”

Tubbo glanced over his shoulder again, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah— it’s in a ravine—“

“Can you show me where? You don’t have to bring me in, I just need to know how to get there. Just in case.”

After a minute of silent debate, Tubbo turned back to him with a firm nod.

“You’ll show me?”

And all Tubbo did to respond to that was smile, hold out a hand for Karl to shake, and say, “Welcome to Pogtopia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "¡Me sonrojas!" = "I'm blushing!" (ty to wood for helping with that translation 😌)
> 
> Things I inadvertently confirmed to exist in the DSMP-verse with this chapter:  
> \- Cars  
> \- Mr. Beast’s giveaways  
> \- The Harry Potter franchise  
> \- Universal Studios


	4. Will Happen, Happening, Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> karl fondles Quackity's teeth in this chapter and that's not even an exaggeration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so was anyone gonna tell me that you use "fiancé" for males and "fiancée" for females? and also that Macbook has a shortcut to add accents over letters?
> 
> happy Quackity lore day! I'm not ready :,)

_Wednesday, October 14, 2020 - 2 days until the festival_

Karl might’ve had a problem.

There was no excuse as to why he sat a distance from the White House from night to morning, watching the door and waiting for someone, anyone to exit, ever vigilant. But he was useless otherwise; he couldn’t do anything without worrying about Quackity, without wondering what was happening within the building’s walls.

He supposed that’s just what happened when the boy filled him with butterflies and heat, made his stomach flip and twirl, made him want to melt into his laugh and smile against his smile. If anything, Karl hadn’t anticipated just how much it would ache to not have access to the boy whenever he wished. Being restrained to watch from afar was driving him mad, forcing him to fall in love again. Absence made the heart grow fonder, or something.

Honestly, Karl figured it was more apt to say that it just made the heart unbearably jealous.

Quackity exited the White House right before the ungodly hour of 7 AM, giving a nervous glance back when the door slammed shut behind him. Instantly he began to book it away from the building, face tilted towards the ground. Karl instantly sprung up from where he’d been perched, relieved to stretch his legs, and raced after him.

In a whisper shout he called, “Quackity!” Once they were a safe distance from the White House.

Quackity spun to him with wide, panicked eyes, stumbling back. When he recognized who it was that had followed him, he relaxed with a heavy sigh. “Oh… shit dude, you scared the hell out of me…”

Karl offered a gentle smile. “Sorry, sorry.”

Quackity glanced around the land before squinting at Karl. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Um…” Well, no point in trying to deny it, “Yeah. I was.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

Karl wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to just bring up Schlatt and his concerns for him right then and there. He figured Quackity would probably just get defensive, so he opted to continue with his strategy of gentle nudging.

“Well, uh… You ran off quick yesterday. Uh… since we got cut short… I don’t know, would you mind me joining you in… wherever you’re going?” Great, now he just sounded like an idiot. “Where _are_ you going?”

Quackity’s eyes softened a little and he glanced over his shoulder. “I dunno. Just… um getting… air?”

Karl laughed lightly. “At seven AM?”

Quackity flushed lightly and dipped his head. “My sleep schedule’s fucked.”

“That’s okay,” Karl assured. He wrung his hands together, not sure if his invitation had been accepted or not. “… So… is it okay if I come?”

After a moment, Quackity permitted, “… Yeah. I think I’m just… I think I’ll just vibe by the lake for a bit. But yeah, you can come.”

Karl grinned and lightly bumped his shoulder against Quackity’s as he took his place next to him. The other stiffened, but returned a tired little smile.

They made their way through the soft sunrise, the world slowly beginning to warm around them. In a few days, Karl thought sourly, this could all be gone.

He cleared his throat after a moment. The silence was odd; Quackity wasn’t usually quiet like this. He tentatively asked, “… Um, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Quackity chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m just… kinda out of it. Long night.” He raised a hand to scratch at his neck, and that’s when Karl noticed the purpling marks left in a choke ring marring his skin.

His stomach plummeted, hoping for the best. “… Yeah? Did you ask for _those_ , too?” He inquired, pointing to the marks.

A startled flash passed over Quackity’s eyes, which told Karl about everything he needed to know. Then he smiled and started to laugh, though not genuinely, as he pulled the collar of his dress shirt up higher to hide the bruising. “I don’t kiss and tell, Karl.”

Karl felt nauseous, but he smiled back and gave an, “Alright, alright”. If Quackity noticed his ingenuity in turn, he didn’t bring it up.

He did figure that he might as well get all of the hard conversations out of the way first, since they were already on a roll. “So… do you know if there’s any special plans for the festival? I know you’re probably pretty tired of hearing about it, but…”

“No, I get it,” Quackity assured, “… Aren’t you the one who’s arranging a lot of that stuff though?”

He was. “I mean, yeah, but I meant more… do you and Schlatt have anything planned?” Getting brave, he pushed by asking, “… Doesn’t someone have a speech?”

Karl was waiting for a, ‘Yeah, and you’ll never guess what’s gonna happen at the end of it,’ or a, ‘Actually yeah, and have you heard about Tubbo?’ But Quackity said neither, his brow pinching. Clueless.

“Uh, I don’t think so? I mean, yeah, the speech yeah. Tubbo has one. Schlatt probably does too. But I mean… that’s it.”

Karl wasn’t sure whether to be more relieved with this answer or not; on one hand, he needed all the information about the execution as he could get so he’d know how to help Tubbo best. On the other, it was nice to know that one of the loves of his life was not, in fact, involved in plotting the murder of a child.

“That’s cool,” He said nonchalantly, “Good for Tubbo.”

And then Quackity smiled, genuine and warm at the thought of the boy, and said, “Yeah. He’s done a lot of work for us. I’m kinda surprised he adapted so well to, uh, not having Wilbur or Tommy around but… he’s great. I’m prouda him. Glad he’s here.”

Karl realized with a pang that Quackity really, _seriously_ didn’t know what was going to happen. Had no clue that Tubbo was a traitor.

Had no clue that _Karl_ was a traitor (though, given, he was only a traitor by a few hours).

“And you don’t think it’s bad that Wilbur and Tommy aren’t here?” He continued, keeping his voice carefully guarded.

Quackity sighed, smile melting a little as he shot Karl a shrug. “I told you. Known evils, dude. Schlatt was the better chance.”

Right. Karl deducted very quickly that he probably shouldn’t tell Quackity about the execution. He’d probably be horrified (at least, Karl hoped he would), but he might inadvertently just speed up the execution if Schlatt got wind, or Quackity would just get Tubbo imprisoned for treason. And though imprisonment wasn’t as bad, it still wasn’t favorable. Not for a kid.

Besides, how would he explain to Quackity how he knew? Tubbo didn’t pry for answers; he just did as Karl said. Quackity wouldn’t give up like that; he would grill him until he was forced into honesty.

Tiptoeing around the subject, he gave a curt nod and said, “I get you, I get you. Uh, I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Yeah, me too. Just also kinda want it over with,” Quackity smiled softly as he turned to Karl, face cast in tangerine light from the sunrise. Karl wanted to kiss him so bad it hurt. “That way things can get back to normal and we can get back to making _real_ change to better the country. It’ll be good to get back to work.”

They approached the shore of the lake. The water lapped gently at the silt by their feet, shining in gold and white flashes as the sun caught on the waves. Compared to L’manberg, the land looked at peace here.

“You’re always on about work,” Karl huffed lightheartedly, almost forgetting what time he was in. Even in the present, Quackity always seemed to throw himself head on into whatever task he was busy with. It seemed exhausting from afar. “When do you relax?”

Quackity just laughed at the notion. “When I retire, I guess.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” Karl mumbled, feeling his smile slip.

“I can’t stand feeling like… like I’m not doing anything, you know?”

After witnessing so many nights of Quackity’s tireless working between El Rapids and (the rebuilt) L’manberg, Karl knew. “I know.”

Quackity chuckled softly and crossed his arms. Karl felt like he was standing across the lake from him rather than right by his side, a million miles away, with all the things he wished he could say.

So instead he opted to stay silent, raising a hand to Quackity’s shoulder. The other tensed instantly, and Karl waited for him to relax again before beginning to rub small circles with his thumb, keeping the touch light.

“You should really take some time for yourself,” He urged softly.

Quackity’s eyes fell half lidded. “Isn’t that what I’m doing now?”

“Oh, well… you know. I’m here.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“… Is it?”

Quackity stared over the water, eyes glazed, almost relaxed. “… I like being around you.”

Karl wasn’t sure how to show his gratitude for the sentiment, but it made his chest swell. He gave Quackity a soft smile which was returned twofold, eyes squinting.

Eye undamaged, all teeth in place. An undamaged copy.

That wasn’t to say Karl didn’t love Quackity despite his scars, but he’d be lying if he didn’t look at his fiancé’s face sometimes and feel a pool of something similar to guilt at the injury— at the _death_ that he’d been unable to prevent.

It was strange, how the Quackity in front of him could simultaneously be the same yet so different to his future self. This one let his guard down with a little less prompting, laughed a little more freely, was maybe marginally kinder.

Karl couldn’t stop staring at his mouth— his unscarred lips, and wondering what would happen if he told him. If he warned him to stay away from Technoblade at all costs; that it wasn’t worth it. That it was okay to step back and stop jeopardizing people— stop jeopardizing _himself._

Karl’s hand had moved on it’s own accord to cup the other’s cheek, skin soft under his palm. Could he urge him to be more careful? Would it work?

His thumb slipped under Quackity’s upper lip, pulling it up to reveal his premolars. With the pad of his finger, he brushed over smooth teeth, staring in fascination until he came to rest it on the point of the canine he _knew_ Quackity was missing in the future.

But here it was. Here _he_ was. Safe.

Couldn’t Karl say? Wasn’t that his job— to be keeping his friends safe? Couldn’t he protect this?

“Dude, what the _fuck?_ ”

He snapped awake, eyes darting up to meet Quackity’s beyond bewildered stare and creased brow. The other didn’t make an attempt to pull away, though that could’ve just as well been out of pure shock. “What are you doing?”

Karl deflated. Right; not his fiancé.

It did give him the horrifying realization that he couldn’t be so careless in his affection. If he pushed too much now, what if Quackity ended up hating him? What if that ruined his chances to ever have his love? He knew that, at least on the path they were on right now, Quackity would most likely still end up loving him at the end of the day. But if he tested too much and the kindness Quackity had for him turned to disgust…

His stomach dropped at the thought. He couldn’t do this.

Nonetheless, this realization didn’t aid the fact that he was feeling up this guy’s _teeth,_ and that this entire situation was very weird and possibly creepy.

“Uh…” Karl flailed for any excuse. He originally intended to say that Quackity had something stuck in his teeth that he’d been trying to get out, but as the sentence formed in his mouth, he recognized that picking someone else’s teeth was absolutely disgusting and might have been worse than the truth. In his panic, he blurted, “Nice teeth.”

Quackity blinked at him for a blank moment as he processed the sheer stupidity of a being that was in front of him, and then his lips split into a gigantic smile and he started to laugh. “Ha-ha— ha- _ha!_ What the fuck does _that_ mean!?”

Karl quickly pulled his hand from Quackity’s face, laughing nervously. His stomach was a whirlwind of butterflies caused both from embarrassment and adoration. He was dying. “I don’t— hah, I don’t know!”

Quackity laughed even more before managing a, “Uhhh— thanks? Your’s too?”

Karl might’ve been an idiot, but he supposed it was good he was at least a funny idiot. He grinned right back. That was a close one.

But then Quackity added, “But if you wanna get your fingers in my mouth again, you’re gonna have to take me to dinner first, Karl, Jesus.”

Karl felt hot in seconds, sputtering out a weak, “Don’t— you’re being a nimrod!” Which only made Quackity double over in his cackling.

At the very least, Karl supposed, hearing that loud of a laugh was preferable from the closed off behavior he’d seen earlier.

And even a joke of a proposition… _was_ a proposition…

Karl joined in on the giggling, bumping his shoulder with Quackity’s. The latter didn’t flinch away this time.

Karl hoped it was a step in the right direction.

They stayed there far longer than Quackity probably originally intended. They ended up sitting by the shore until the sun had well and truly risen, side by side. They laughed and spoke and listened. Eventually Quackity relaxed enough for Karl to comfortably lean against him. Even the slight touch felt like a hit of a high to Karl. He’d missed warmth like this.

But the more the day progressed, the more Karl began to worry. He would’ve loved to stay like that forever, but he knew he probably didn’t have that luxury.

“… I know I said to take a break, but… Does Schlatt want you to do anything today?” He mumbled.

Quackity’s face, previously bright and smiling, fell instantly. “Probably.”

Karl didn’t press. Wasn’t sure how to.

Quackity brought his knees up and buried his face in them, body slumping. “I really don’t wanna go back,” He groaned, voice muffled.

Karl started to pull at his sleeves, very easily imagining why. “… I just don’t want to get you in trouble again.”

“You weren’t the thing that got me in trouble,” Quackity assured, “It was my fault for not paying attention.”

That hardly eased the pit of guilt in Karl’s stomach; he couldn’t afford to not be vigilant.

He was going to insist more that he was worthy of blame, but Quackity continued before he could, “… I should get back, though, you’re right. Sorry.”

Karl shifted his weight off of Quackity, instantly feeling a little colder. “It’s okay,” He promised, “… Will I see you tomorrow, or will you be too busy for the festival?”

Quackity shrugged as he stood up. “Depends. I’m not sure.”

“Well… I’ll see you at the festival for sure if I don’t,” Karl promised.

“Totally, dude.” Quackity gave a little wave before starting to walk away. “I’ll see you soon!”

“Later!” Karl echoed with a wave of his own.

Quackity vanished back in the direction of the town and Karl turned back to the lake.

He himself knew he had work to do the next day. No more time for games. He had to keep everyone safe.

He remembered the ring of bruises around Quackity’s neck.

Muscles tensing with angry heat, Karl balled his hands into fists and groaned, flopping back on the grass.

So much for that; He was a failure in every sense of that regard. But he knew how Quackity got when he was pushed too much, and who was he against Schlatt? What could he do?

What _could_ he do?

* * *

_Thursday, October 15, 2020 - 1 day until the festival_

He awoke to to Tubbo rapping on his door, pale and terrified. The kid began to stutter through some sort of justification as to why he was there, but Karl didn’t hear it. He just opened his arms to him and Tubbo instantly collapsed into him.

“I’m really—“ He stuttered out into Karl’s chest, “I’m scared, are they really—?”

“Just don’t let them trap you, okay?” Karl mumbled to him, “Give your speech and get out of there. You’ll be okay.”

“Wilbur said he’s gonna detonate it when I’m done,” Tubbo mumbled into his shoulder.

“I know, I’m gonna find the button. I’m not gonna let him. Do you know where the button is?”

“Uhh… um…” Tubbo’s brow scrunched as he stumbled over words in his panic. “I’m sorry— I’m—”

“Breathe,” Karl urged, trying to keep himself as calm as he possibly could, if only for Tubbo’s sake.

Karl rested a steady hand on Tubbo’s back, feeling him take in large, shaky breaths to calm himself. After a minute, Tubbo pulled away to meet his eyes again. Karl moved to shut the door so they’d have a bit of privacy.

“He said,” Tubbo tried after a minute, “He said that he and Tommy would be to the West… ‘Cause— ‘cause he said not to look over there so I don’t blow their cover. He wouldn’t say _where_ the button was, ‘cause he didn’t want Tommy to keep him from doing it, but it’s probably in that area.”

It wasn’t an exact location, but it was better than nothing. He nodded, “That’s alright, thank you.”

Tubbo let out another long breath. “Karl, if you’re fucking with me, this isn’t funny.”

“Tubbo, I’m so serious right now. I’m so serious,” Karl insisted, and Tubbo must’ve seen the hard look in his eye, because he nodded.

“Karl,” He said after a moment, “If something goes wrong and you can’t get to it in time… I’m giving Wilbur a signal so I’ll have time to run away— we both agreed on it. At the end of my speech, I’ll say— I’ll say, ‘now let the festival begin,’ and that’s his signal to go press it. So if you don’t get to it in time and you hear me say that—“

“Then run away,” Karl finished.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Karl nodded, a hand reaching to twist and twine the strings of his hoodie between his fingers. “I’m gonna try and find the button today so I can be there tomorrow to help, okay?”

Tubbo nodded and gave him a strained smile. “I’d help you, but…”

“You’re probably pretty busy, right?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“That’s okay,” Karl promised, struggling to tamp down his own nerves. Tubbo was the one who needed comfort at the moment, “You’re doing everything you can.”

Tubbo just kept nodding, so much so it seemed his head might bobble right off, and repeating, “Yeah,” to reassure himself.

“Just run when you’re done with your speech, and I’ll come find you. Don’t let Schlatt or anyone hold you back. Just run.” Karl glanced to the wall and shrugged, “Say you have to pee really bad or something.”

That got a weak laugh out of Tubbo, and a little smile that made Karl feel like he’d done something right. “Maybe not that, but I’ll think of something.” Arms returned to wrap around him. “Thanks, Karl.”

Karl hugged back and gave a few more comforts, but didn’t linger long. He doubted he’d be seeing Quackity today after all. He had a lot of work to do.

He searched every nook, cranny, and room to the left of L’manberg, and found nothing, which he’d somewhat expected; it wouldn’t make sense to have the detonator so close to the bomb; Wilbur would want to be a safe distance away when the explosion happened. But Karl figured it was still worth a try; he didn’t know if the bomb had a timer, or if the explosion would be delayed from when it was pressed.

None of that mattered, because it clearly wasn’t the case. The button must’ve been set out farther away.

He took to searching the hills, figuring it would be fairly clear where the button was. There would probably be a contraption or pedestal or even a room where Wilbur had set it up. Yet, Karl saw no such thing as he beelined back and forth over the grass.

He got to the top of a tall hill to pass and catch his breath, and stared out over L’manberg.

Truthfully, he’d never gone to the first festival. Hadn’t witnessed any of the horrors of it.

But he’d heard plenty from others.

_“Yeah,” Punz had described, “It was fuckin’ crazy… He brings Technoblade up on stage and tells Techno to shoot him, and he— he does! He shoots him with a firework, and then there’s a rumbling, and then a gigantic bang, and I’m thrown out of my fucking seat, and I hit a wall and I swear it nearly breaks my damn back. The air’s all dusty, I can’t see shit, and my ears are ringing but there’s screaming and… fuck, it was horrible.”_

_“… Holy crap,” Karl had mused right back, going cold in shock,“… Is everyone okay?”_

_“I was alright, but like…_ barely. _Tubbo died before the explosion when Techno shot him. Uh… Quackity, Schlatt, and Techno were ok, I think, because they were up on the podium which was a bit farther from the explosions, but…” Punz had frowned, eyes glazed, “A lot of people died. A_ lot. _Sam lost a life, Ant lost a life, Callahan… well, Callahan didn’t— I don’t think he could if he tried. Uh… who else… Ponk… Niki maybe? Unless she respawned fast, ‘cause I saw her run off with Wilbur…” He paused then, eyes widening, “Oh, shit, I didn’t even tell you about Wilbur and Tommy!”_

Karl swallowed. Nobody knew. None of the attendees knew they were going to die the next day.

He needed to move faster.

“Admiring the view?”

Karl gasped and whirled, having thought he was alone. He relaxed when he saw it was only Quackity approaching him, smiling. Smiling with perfect teeth. Karl had to protect that smile.

He gave a nervous laugh. “Uh, I guess.”

Quackity came to stand at his side. “What’re you doing up here?”

“Looking… for something,” He said, which wasn’t a total lie.

“For what?”

He couldn’t say. It would be better if he handled the problems of the world quietly. Telling Tubbo was necessary to protect him, but telling anyone else might risk the cohesiveness of the timeline. He didn’t want to change _too_ much, after all.

And with Quackity looking at him like _that,_ full of warmth and kindness, it became increasingly necessary for him to remind himself of this fact. He couldn’t kiss him. He couldn’t say he loved him. He had to wait until he went home again to do all that.

He wished Sapnap would just come back already. One fiancé, he could survive without, but two was torture.

Especially when one of his fiancés was being treated like absolute garbage by _his_ fiancé.

“Nothing,” Karl said softly, “Think I left it at home.”

Quackity scrunched his nose at him. “Idiot.”

“Yeah, kinda,” Karl agreed with a breathless little laugh.

They stood in silence as the sun began to sink behind the city.

“Y’know, I kinda expected you to be busy with preparations,” Karl admitted softly.

“Eh.” Quackity sighed, “There’s not much more to be done.”

Karl hummed in agreement, glancing over to the other, who’s face was illuminated in an orange-y sunset glow.

Did he dare?

Slowly, Karl raised an arm and set it over Quackity’s shoulders. Even with that simple touch, the other stiffened, smile faltering for a moment. Bad idea, bad idea—

Before he could pull away, Quackity glanced up to him. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Karl coughed, “Just, uh, cold.”

“No, I mean…” The other’s eyes were concerned, lips quirked down in a frown, “You’ve been acting really weird around me lately.”

Karl cursed softly in the back of his mind. So he’d _definitely_ been too obvious. Had he blown his whole cover?

“I just… uh…”

But how could he help himself when leaving Quackity alone would mean subjecting him to more welts and bruises and harsh words?

With half honestly, he quietly muttered, “… I’m just worried about you.”

Quackity took pause at that, and then barked out loud laughter, “ _Ha!_ Me!? The hell, why?”

Why _not_ , Karl thought. He still didn’t want to be direct about it; he knew Quackity would hate that, so he just continued, “… You seem really really overworked lately. And jumpy.”

“Jumpy?”

“Everything startles you now. A door slams too loud and it makes you jump. Schlatt…” Was hurting him, “… doesn’t seem like an easy person to be around.”

If Quackity connected all the dots between what Karl was implying, he didn’t say. He just shrugged it off and gave a Karl a reassuring, “I _like_ working, like I said. Gives me something to do. And, I mean, he’s not, but he’s… uh… he’s different from what you see. Y’know? He’s different as a fiancé than he is as a president. I know he can be a bit much sometimes, but, uh…” Absentmindedly, he brought a hand to scratch at his neck, which was still bruised over, “… He’s fine.”

Karl looked at him with what he was sure was pity he couldn’t help, and relented with a small, “… If you say so.”

Quackity’s gaze turned stubborn, serious, defensive, and Karl got the sense he’d pushed too much. “Karl, I swear, it’s fine. I can handle myself.”

Karl quickly pulled his arm off from around the shorter’s shoulders, nodding to prevent any further anger. Even the slight warning was enough to send his stomach spiraling into a pit of guilt. “Okay, I know, sorry— I just care about you a lot, dude.”

Quackity’s frown deepened even more when the contact left, but he met Karl’s eyes evenly. “I know.” He paused, looking back to L’manberg and continuing, “… And I don’t… I don’t mean I don’t want you around, okay? I know we’ve been hanging out more— that’s not what I meant. I _love_ having you around, dude, seeing you’s like the highlight of my day.”

Karl’s heart instantly soared again, and he balled his sleeves in his hands to release the tension that laced his fingers. Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything after all!

Quackity rubbed a hand over his face, giving a dry chuckle, “That probably sounds stupid and confusing, I’m sorry. I guess I just mean… I just don’t want you to worry.”

He couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t, but he could keep supporting him. He could keep being there just like Quackity liked. “… It’s not stupid. I get it.”

Quackity nodded, seemingly satisfied with that, and stared out over the horizon. Karl turned away and did the same, figuring that conversation was over.

Then Quackity stepped just a little closer, shoulder lightly brushing Karl’s, and stayed there. Karl imagined it was the closest version of a hug he could give at that moment, and drank it in. L’manberg became a blackened silhouette against the skyline.

He needed to protect this. He needed to protect him.

“… Quackity?” He said after a moment.

“Mmm?”

“… I know I promised we’d hang out tomorrow, but I— I might be a little late.”

“Oh, dude, it’s chill. I’ll be busy for a bit anyways. Just come find me when you can, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was so much more to say, so much more he could warn him of. He didn’t.

The minutes slipped away.

Karl held on to whatever he could. Time was almost up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in chapters; it's been over a month! I wanted to finish up my other multi-chaptered fic before focusing more on this one, so now that it's done I can invest a bit more time into this. I do have other projects going on atm though, so I can't promise absolute consistency!! 😅 see y'all soon!
> 
> post Quackity 16th stream edit: 😳. well FUCK. god damn.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](https://lacystar.tumblr.com)!


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